The Kweendom of Abstraction

childless

I suppose like any other red-blooded American little girl…I loved dolls. Some didn’t…they were tomboys or into other things…but, I loved them. I loved the ones that looked the realest. I remember being attached to one little girl’s doll so much so that the summer I spent next door to her house (my great-grandmother’s)…I played with her every day to play with this doll. Soft and pliable like a real baby. Little life-like fingers and toes, even though the body of the doll was cloth. I remember it so well. I always wanted to be the mother during play “house”. I didn’t even care if I had a husband. How ironic that still…I have no husband, yet the desire for a child still echoes like a loud cacophony of hollow baby cries.

Truth is, most days…I’m good. I have a godson and I’m happy to be an influence in his life. I’m proud to have a miracle as the center of my maternal affections. Syre brings out those impulses…and at the same time quelches them. With Syre…I’m more than a mom…I’m the person HIS mom chose to mother her child in her untimely absence…God forbid. That is an honor to me…

Yet…sometimes, the desire to mother nags me to my core. It’s a baby’s laugh or a commercial for diapers, baby talk, the scent of baby lotion. Sometimes it’s as simple as waking up…wishing I had someone to pass all my love to.

You know what pisses me off though? People who will say that I should be glad to not have had children for one reason or another. Whether it’s the rise in divorces or single parenthood, the corrupt world of gang violence or drugs…or simply not being able to monetarily provide for them. Some folks feel the same on marriage. They’ve been married and taken through the ringer and are quick to say how naive or senseless I am to want to be part of a sacred covenant such as marriage. To be lucky to not have been part of a failing marriage. But how presumptuous of anyone to not think that the same things that go into a marriage are the same things that I’ve put into the relationships I’ve been in. Marriage isn’t the license or the ceremony…it’s the mind state. The level of commitment and willingness to dedicate yourself to someone. Cynicism in folks has got them doling out bitter advice on how it’s best to remain single. Yea, ok…I’m gonna need for folks to shut the fuck up. It’s really okay to do so.

My thing is…if you resent, regret, repress the decision you made to be married before or have children with people before…than YOU need to be by YOUR self…because clearly you didn’t work through the pain of the demise of that situation…but, don’t and I repeat DON’T tell me of how lucky I am to have given my heart to folks, yet to not have been married or to worry that I wont be…all because you’re bitter and wish you’d never met the fool you were betrothed to. Like life…love is what you make it. What you put into it. Sure, I’ve got my shit to deal with about love and relationships like a lot of people, but I’ve never been confused about giving it 100% of me. I’ve never been confused about being honest about my love and the words I spoke to another. So, yea…sometimes your experience is yours…save grace.

Then, when I look at what I’ve encountered. The selfish, abusive, dismissive men…who wanted to have me but didn’t give me them…I realize that maybe THAT is why I didn’t mother a child through my own womb. God was doing exactly what He wanted to do with me. He protected me, I believe…from having a child with someone who didn’t mean me well. I can’t speak for others…please don’t ask me why He didn’t protect you. LOL My only answer would be…that you (whomever you may be) were meant to mother/father a child for His divine plan…just like you were meant to marry whomever you did. Your lessons and path aren’t mine…so, I can’t tell ya.

All I know is that sometimes, I ache for the call of “mommy” and to have a man proudly aver me as his wife. To be a part of something bigger than myself and my own needs…to contribute to something beautiful. Who knows, maybe it will happen…maybe it wont. I just felt like saying it.